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... what you see, wife?"
I nearly dropped the tray. "Does being sick make you cheeky?" I muttered, marching inside before he could see how red my face was.
I set the tray on the bedside table with more force than necessary. "Eat, then take your medicine."
Dante didn’t move from his spot. "Feed me."
I gaped at him. "What?"
"You heard me." He folded his arms, making his biceps bulge. "I’m sick, weak and can’t possibly hold a spoon."
I pointed at his ver ...
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